In a game series as rich, complex, and emotionally charged as The Legend of Zelda, where each entry offers a unique, encapsulated world of wonders that satiates a hunger for gritty realism, vibrant fantasy, quirky surrealism, or some incredible fusion of all three, I frequently feel the need to ask myself: Why do I always extol Majora’s Mask as the series’ magnum opus?
That may seem like an odd question to ask about one’s favorite game, as it often comes down to personal taste, but I think it’s important to periodically reflect on the merits of beloved works of art to make sure that one’s compliments (and complaints) aren’t being driven purely by nostalgia. And as more and more Zelda devotees proclaim that Breath of the Wild has cast off the shackles holding back its predecessors and ushered in a brand new era of gaming without a second look back, I become increasingly doubtful that my stance on Majora’s Mask is even relevant anymore. Am I just maintaining a stubborn grasp on an obsolete relic of a bygone age, or is my favorite Zelda title a genuine diamond in the rough that holds its sparkle to this very day? Well, after carefully thinking it over, there is one special feature of Majora’s Mask that I don’t believe any other game in the series can hold a candle to: its cast of characters.
What I mean by this is that Termina is one of those rare video game environments where very few of the inhabitants come across as aimless background characters. Whether you’re traversing the bustling streets of Clock Town, the frigid slopes of Snowhead, or even the barren riverbeds of Ikana Canyon, nearly every person you meet has a story worth listening to. The quietly dignified Deku Butler, dutiful in practice but playful in spirit, stoically bears the weight of a loss too agonizing to articulate; the lackadaisical Grog, whose grim countenance belies his warm heart, reflects on personal fulfillment in an unexpectedly optimistic way; the much-beleaguered Pamela, mature beyond her years, must be a reluctant but loving parent to her own ill-fated father; and even the loud-mouthed Mutoh, who presents himself as little more than a one-note blowhard, reveals his humanity when he expresses concern over his wife’s well-being. Even the most minor characters can elicit laughter and tears, and it truly feels like no one’s potential is wasted in this game.
That is, with the notable exception of Sakon the thief.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that Sakon is one of the most painfully underutilized characters I’ve encountered in the entire Zelda universe. As the infamously greedy scourge of Termina who spreads misery like a malignant tumor spreads disease and lurks at the heart of the game’s most important sidequest, wouldn’t you expect him to be an utterly loathsome, exceptionally clever menace who constantly impedes your progress and haunts your every waking moment? Well, tough luck on that one, because the Sakon we got instead is a whiny, pathetic wannabe who can’t even be bothered to show his face when we infiltrate his lair and steal back Kafei’s wedding mask. What a crushing disappointment for anyone, like me, who had high expectations for his character!
But lament not, my friends, for it turns out that one tremendously talented, innovative Zelda fan solved the elusive riddle that would unlock Sakon’s true potential. The answer? Give him the ultimate operatic makeover.
As far as musicians go, orchestral artist M. Bulteau is truly in a class all his own when it comes to raw ambition. Many musicians who create arrangements of film and video game soundtracks are content in simply uploading their audio to iTunes and/or YouTube for the masses to enjoy, but for the past 10 years, Bulteau has been diligently working toward something far grander: rebuilding Termina from the ground up as the setting for a full-fledged opera, complete with shadow play that incorporates puppets and live actors, fantastic recreations of the classic songs we know and love, and a familiar story told from a completely different perspective.
But what exactly do I mean by “different perspective”? Well, in a bold move likely intended to make the opera more accessible to those outside the Zelda fan base, Bulteau has ejected Link from the story entirely and shifted the focus to Kafei’s struggle to retrieve his wedding mask. This actually makes a lot of sense, as the Kafei and Anju sidequest so beautifully conveys the down-to-earth humanity of Termina’s citizens and the heartache they suffer at the hands of Majora, and only a little bit of narrative tweaking would be needed to remove Link from the equation without impacting the core themes. So with Kafei as the new protagonist, this means that our favorite prancing maniac Sakon also gets upgraded to “primary antagonist” status — which naturally calls for his own delightful theme song.
What makes “Sakon’s Arietta” stand out to me is the way that Bulteau weaves clever wordplay around a magnificent orchestration of the “Curiosity Shop Theme” to transform Sakon into the devilishly cunning, shamelessly narcissistic villain I always longed for him to be. The language he uses while reveling in his success is extremely highfalutin and refined, suggesting that this incarnation of Clock Town’s nighttime phantom is no mere pickpocket, but rather a calculating intellect who poses a genuine threat to those careless enough to wander the streets after dark. His assertion that some people believe him to be an urban legend implies that he has never been spotted, as his nimble fingers and superior brainpower enable him to spirit away possessions without setting off a single alarm bell in the minds of his victims. As Sakon’s words curl like a wily serpent around the notes of the hypnotic melody, I feel my pulse quicken as a sense of dread roils in the pit of my stomach. For the first time, I find Sakon truly intimidating.
But something still seems amiss here. Whether Bulteau did this intentionally or not, I couldn’t help but notice that most of the words the bandit uses to describe himself rhyme with “suspicious,” a word that Sakon’s in-game persona vehemently rejects when it comes to describing his own behavior (even though his wicked intentions are so obvious that he might as well be twirling a mustache). It begs the question: Is this arietta just an elaborate con job? Does this image of a stealthy, conniving mastermind who strikes fear in the hearts of Terminians represent reality, or is it all a smoke-and-mirrors performance to hide just how incompetent and idiotic Sakon is deep down? I’m honestly not sure which scenario to believe or whether I’m completely overthinking it, and that uncertainty only magnifies the tension of the piece. I feel more claustrophobic and nervous every time I hear this song, and to me, that’s the hallmark of an utterly brilliant composition. Bulteau’s lyrical prowess has breathed new life into Sakon, and whenever I wander Clock Town after the sun sets from now on, I have a feeling I’ll be looking over my shoulder to see if a ghost with nimble fingers and an eerie smile is lurking within the inky black shadows, patiently waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
If you’re interested in Bulteau’s work, I highly recommend you visit his website to learn more about the Majora opera and other projects he’s passionate about!
This article is part of an ongoing Medli’s Melodies mini-series that pays tribute to the clever, funny, thought-provoking, and even inspiring lyrics that fans have written for the Zelda songs we know and love. If you would like to catch up on previous Lyrical Spotlight articles, please check out the list below.
